Walking into a Martin McDonagh film, you know you're in for something special. After seeing his first feature film in 2008, “In Bruges,” I was convinced he was the second coming of Quentin Tarantino. Filled with profanely crackling dialogue, it was like being hit by a bolt of lightning, something both giddily vulgar and disarmingly soulful. It isn't difficult to spot his playwright's love of witty banter and character-driven situations, which often elevate and distinguish his work.

For his third film, “Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri,” McDonagh has waded into slightly more more socially timely waters than his previous cinematic output tackling the growing mistrust between police and the public, and the cycles of violence and revenge that keep them apart.

Frances McDormand stars as Mildred, whose teenage daughter was raped and murdered by unknown assailants. After seven months and still no progress on the case, she becomes exasperated with the inaction of the Ebbing police department, and rents three billboards just outside of town that read: "Raped while dying, and still no arrests? How come, Chief Willoughby?"

This sends the town into an uproar, making the police defensive and the locals turn against Mildred and her family. Chief Willoughby (Woody Harrelson) is especially taken off guard, believing that he's doing his best. But his chief lieutenant, the hotheaded Officer Dixon (Sam Rockwell) is enraged, and sets out to bring the billboards down (and punish those responsible) at all costs. Soon, the feud between Mildred and the Ebbing PD threatens to divide and bring down the entire town, and the real reason for the billboards begins to get drowned out by all the noise.

Mildred believes that the police are too busy targeting black people to do their jobs. And indeed, Dixon has a reputation as a virulent racist. But “Three Billboards” isn't about racist cops vs. a virtuous public, it's about the tenuous relationship between the two, not to mention the uphill battle women face for sex crimes to be taken seriously.

Mildred wants her daughter's rapist and killer found, and is willing to go to any lengths to do it, even if it means breaking the law herself. That's where the heart of the film lies; none of these people are saints, and none of them are really monsters either. As the police retaliate against Mildred, Mildred retaliates against them, creating and endless cycle of violence that distracts from the real reason they're all there in the first place.

McDonagh's acerbic dialogue sharply lends fuel to the fire on both sides of the battle, with the keen understanding that the world is not a black and white place. “Three Billboards” touches on the mistrust of the police in the African American community, but that's not its main focus. McDonagh is looking at a much bigger picture here, exploring ideas of justice, revenge, sexism, and small-town rot disguised as a dramatic comedy.

It doesn't always work. McDonagh is far more comfortable with blunt force exchanges than the more tender moments. As a result, “Three Billboards” often feels well-intentioned but rough around the edges. McDormand is tremendous, as are Harrelson and Rockwell, and their conviction helps the creakier elements land. But even though you sometimes get the feeling that McDonagh is out of his comfort zone, the film has a kind of lived-in charm that is hard to resist. He nails small town Americana (it was filmed in the mountains of North Carolina, which has been my home for half my life now), and even manages to end on a note of hope.

The world is a dark place, where violence begets violence and resentment of the authorities runs deep. McDonagh doesn't come armed with answers. Instead he asks questions; probing, searching, hoping to find solutions that may or may not be there. That these characters find common ground is like a ray of light in the darkness. It's not always easy, it's often messy, but in our increasingly divided world, “Three Billboards” asks us to simply listen without judging. That, McDonagh poses, if nothing else, is a start.

Matthew Lucas, a former Davidson County resident, studied theater and film studies at Appalachian State University. He now resides in Blowing Rock and has a blog where he posts movie news, reviews and commentary at www.fromthefrontrow.net.

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